Five Champions
by SirenPash
Summary: The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin - only this year there's a twist, Four schools will be competing. Durmstrang - Beauxbaton - Hogwarts - and a new school from the United States. Harry Potter/OMC/Viktor Krum
1. Chapter 1 - Let the Tournament Begin

AN - I don't own Harry Potter or any of it's attached characters.

Five Champions

Chapter 1 – Let the Tournament Begin

* * *

"Colorado Academy of the Magical Arts, more commonly referred to as C.A.M.A, is one of seven magical institutes in The United States of America. Settled among the quaking aspens trees, in a town of the same name, students age eleven to eighteen study year round learning to harness and control their magical talents."

Dr. Stephens' voice carried through the heavy doors of the Great Hall in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I and seventeen others stood waiting to be introduced into the welcoming feast. Our arrival to the Castle had been late, so we hadn't had an opportunity to see any of the student body – visiting or otherwise.

Not that they would have been impressed by our entrance, we had simply Portkeyed into the town called Hogsmeade, and then carriages pulled by what I imagined must have been thestrals (not that I could see them) pulled us up to the strangely named school.

"May I present the students of C.A.M.A!" Dr. Stephens finished and all of us stood a little bit taller. I stood back, not wanting to be trampled as the doors swung open and students began to shove their way in.

"Well, there goes any chance of looking like a dignified student body." I muttered to myself. I quickly looked around, hoping none of my colleagues had heard me, to see that everyone else had already filed into the Hall and were claiming what few seats remained. Any thoughts of dignity vanished as I rushed after them, tripping on my robes. I smashed headlong into the stone floor, my knees burning from the impact and red lines of blood began to form on my now scraped palms.

Dr. Stephens spoke over the snickers as I scrambled to right myself, "Take your seat Mr. Isolde." I frantically searched for a seat, yearning to quickly find a place so I could be out from under the scrutiny of my peers.

"With haste, Mr. Isolde!"

A whimper left my lips, and I silently pleaded for someone, anyone, to point out an empty seat. My eyes began to cloud with tears, and the familiar heat of a blush bloomed across my throat and on the tips of my ears.

Just as Dr. Stephens was about to bark at me again, the man seated at the head table with snowy white hair and a beard to match, wearing puce robes, and half-moon spectacles spoke. "Joshua, please excuse my poor planning but it seems we've run out of room. Mr. Isolde, was it? If you'd be so kind as to join us here at the head table, there is an open seat by Professor Hagrid I believe."

As the aforementioned Professor rose to make himself known, another round of snickers graced the Hall. Directed towards me, or the fact that the professors rising caused the entire head table to practically tip over, I didn't know. I had, had enough and I practically flew to my seat and sunk down into the chair.

Dumbledore (the bearded man) rose and a silenced settled over the Great Hall. "Good evening, ladies and gentleman, ghosts, and – most particularly – guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will both be comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourself at home."

He sat down, and the golden plates in front of everyone filled with food. I looked around as students began to fill their individual plates.

"Yer hands alright?"

Professor Hagrid was massive and his voice, though booming, was gentler than I would've expected. "You took quite a spill there."

"Yeah," I began, blushing once again, "I'm not really use to this European robes. They're longer than we have back in the states."

"You should let Madame Pomfrey take a look – don't wan' yer hands getting infected do ye?"

Before I could even responded he had already flagged down the medi-witch who, with two flicks of her wand, had my hands cleaned and bandage bound.

"That's better don' ya think? The name's Rubeus Hagrid, Professor in Care of Magical Creatures – and keeper of Keys and Grounds."

"Greyson Isolde, 9th grader… er fourth year, Majoring in Curse Making."

Talking with Hagrid was honestly the most natural and enjoyable conversation I'd ever had. I was beyond disappointed that his tales of working with some creature called a Blast-Ended Skrewt had to be cut short – but with a promise of tea and the rest of the story at a later date, we both turned to the once again standing headmaster.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament… I'm sorry Four wizard tournament" he corrected with a smile towards Dr. Stephens "is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation as we bring the casket in. Mr. Filch, if you would.

"As you know, three" He chuckled, "Pardon me, Four, champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after the third task will win the Cup."

Dumbledore tapped the top of the casket which had been brought to the front as he had been talking. The casket melted away to reveal an unassuming wooden goblet. The only real interest to it was the blue flames that danced along the brim.

"To ensure that no underage student feels too tempted, I will be drawing an age line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. All students from Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbaton must be seventeen to cross the line. Any student from C.A.M.A who has completed, with their guardians mind you, the necessary permission slips may participate."

Grumbles of disbelief and moans of 'unfair' passed around the Hall, while any C.A.M.A student seated next to another shared high fives. Dumbledore continued on of the dangers of participation, but I had tuned him out. Every student from the U.S., all eighteen of us, had plans to enter. In order to be eligible to even go on the trip here you had to present the forms of Eligibility. Chances of me being chosen were slim, I knew that. But my mother had practically threatened me to enter. Her words echoed in my head.

"Of course, you'll be chosen, and of course you'll win. Because if you aren't it means you weren't strong enough… and if that's the case…

"I don't know why you'd even bother coming home."

FC

* * *

AN - This will be a Viktor/OC (Greyson Isolde)/Harry Potter story, I'm not quite sure how that'll all work - but I really want this story to take off.

a run down on Greyson (for those of you who yearn for a description NOW even if it will come later.)

Age - 14 (Fifteen in november (This story begins on October 30th)

Height - 5'3"

Build - Slim with light muscle from Dueling Club. His skin is pale with raspberry colored lips

Hair - Shaved Close on the side with a long top that hangs close to covering his right eyes ending about mid cheek. Jet Black.

Eyes - Ice blue with flecks of silver and grey.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Goblet of Fire

FC

Five Champions

Chapter 2 – The Goblet of Fire

* * *

The next day passed in much the same way as any other Saturday. I woke up, far earlier than most students my age, and headed to breakfast. My stomach in knots from placing my name in the flaming goblet when I had entered the hall, I quickly found a seat (this time at a student table thankfully) and ate a light breakfast. Not surprisingly, very few other students were in the hall. I looked around and was pleased to see that – of the few students present – I wasn't the only one dressed in a school uniform. Although, in comparison, I still felt under dressed.

While European uniforms were of light silk, stiff dress pants, and heavy robes in shades of black and red – C.A.M.A's uniforms were much more relaxed. I wore a pair of, dress code approved, dark denim skinny jeans with a heavy white sweater, tightly fitted through the sleeves and ending about mid-thigh in length. Really, the only parts of my outfit that looked uniform were the small, pointed, teacup witch hat – angled to the left – and the black shoulder cape ending a few inches above my elbows, tightly clasped at my neck with a dark purple gem set in a twisted gun-metal, framed brooch.

I was finishing the last of my mint teas when a loud bang resounded through the hall. Sprawled across the stone floor, just outside the golden age line that encircled the Goblet of Fire, were two boys of identical appearance. Flaming red hair, freckles on every inch of revealed skin, and most notably two beards – snowy white and growing at an alarming rate. I stared, as Dumbledore entered – inaudibly speaking with the twins – and tried to comprehend what I had just seen. When it finally clicked, I lost it, and joined everyone else in laughter. Once I started, all the other insecurities I had bottled up about entering the tournament melted away – leaving me, for the first time since my mother filed my permission forms, feeling oddly relaxed and euphoric. Of course, that only lasted a few more moments until I realized that I was the only one still laughing. I sobered immediately and busied myself with pouring a new cup of tea.

"Hi."

The new voice jarred me and I almost dropped my now full cup. As it was, tea sloshed out and scalded my hands.

"Oh! Here, let me help. I'm sorry; I hadn't meant to frighten you like that."

"Its fine, its fine. I'm just easily startled I suppo… Oh you don't have to do that!" But the stranger had already started to mop up the table.

"You can use this to wipe off your hands." He offered out a fresh napkin as he spoke. "I'm Harry by the way, Harry Potter. Fourth year, Gryffindor." He looked up at me when he introduced himself and I was floored by the vibrancy of his eyes.

"Greyson Isolde, fourth year at C.A.M.A." I tried to maintain eye contact, but I kept glancing down at my own hands.

Another Hogwarts student appeared over Harry's shoulder. "Fourth year… you would have just started majoring, yes? I'm Hermione; sorry I missed your name."

"This is Greyson. Grey, that's Hermione and the bloke behind her, is Ron." Harry answered for me. Ron nodded his head in recognition as Hermione started.

"You did just start majoring, didn't you?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm in the Cursemaking Program."

"Cursemaking? Isn't that a little… you know…"

"Dark." Ron interjected.

How blunt he was had my laughing again.

"Ronald!" Hermione admonished smacking him on the arm.

"It's alright. Admittedly, yes, it is considered by most to be a dark art."

"See?" Ron defended.

"However, I've found that intimate knowledge on how a curse is formed will lend itself to working on a cursebreak." It was silent for a while, while they puzzled through my response. Ron, however, had decided that it was time for a change of subject.

"Competing in the tournament then?"

"I've entered at least."

"You American students have all the luck, getting to take part. Wish I could enter."

"I'd give you my form if I could…" I muttered beneath my breath.

Whether or not they heard me, or simply chose to ignore me, remained unknown but the conversation carried on as light conversation. And not too much later, they excused themselves. As Ron and Hermione headed towards the heavy wood doors, Harry stood behind. Throughout the conversation we had played an interesting game of trying to watch each other without the other noticing. Neither of us were any good at it, if our constantly locking eyes, reddening from blush, and the occasionally smile were any indication.

"Would you like to sit with me at dinner?"

"I'm sorry?" The question, while straightforward, caught me off guard.

"At dinner," he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I just thought maybe you'd like to sit with me. Well, not just me, Ron and Hermione would be there as well. Not that I'd mind if it was just the two of us, but…" He was backpedaling, and becoming increasingly flustered. The image had me giggling and, not surprisingly, that seemed to agitate him more. He stuttered out an apology and turned to retreat.

I'm not sure what came over me, but seeing him leave so dejectedly had my heart stuttering. My body acted of its own volition and I found myself twisted in my seat, my hand clasped around his wrist, baring his retreat. "I'm sorry, I'd love to sit with you." He broke into a grin at that, and I found myself effortlessly returning it.

"Great! That's great, really great. I'll see you tonight then, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah… that's great."

"You've said that already." I said between giggles.

"Did I? Sorry, it's just really…"

"Great?"

He chuckled – a throaty sound, very pleasing to the ear. "Yeah, Great. Well, see ya." And he continued after his friends, who had taken to waiting just outside the great hall.

* * *

Maybe I was making a bigger deal out of this than was really necessary, but in the hour before dinner I spent my time in front of my changing mirror trying outfit after outfit. The day had passed in a blur, mainly because I spent all of it stressing about dinner. _He's probably not even attracted to guys. _That thought sobered me from any and all delusional fantasies that had played through my imagination. I pulled off my silvery grey formal robes, and dressed back into my casual uniform that I'd worn during the day. Satisfied with my appearance I made my way out of the dungeon beside the Slytherin Common Room, and up once again towards the Great Hall.

Already the hall was filling with people, and I was starting to worry that I'd never find Harry in the sea of students. However, as I neared the doors, my worries were unfounded, for standing just inside, and drawing a bit of attention in elegant black dress robes was my dinner date.

_Not a date! _I reminded myself.

He looked incredibly uncomfortable and was tugging on his sleeves rather forcibly. He hadn't noticed my entrance, so claiming the element of surprise I stood behind him and spoke.

"Well, don't you look dashing! Now I feel underdressed." He jumped at my voice and whipped around, a scowl on his face.

"Oh shut it." He was still pulling on his sleeves.

I did my best to contain the laughter bubbling in my throat, and held out a hand. "Here, take off your cloak." Giving me an incredulous look, he pulled the dark material of his toned shoulders and passed it to me.

It took me a minute to get a good look at the thick grey sweaters of passing Hogwarts students, but once I had a firm image in my head I held up the cloak and ran my hand across the rough fabric. A shimmer of magic followed my hand and what once was dressing robes morphed to match the Hogwarts sweaters.

"Whoa…" Harry took the now sweater back and pulled it on – messing his already unruly hair and sending his bow tie askew. "Where did you… how… you didn't even use a wand."

"Of course not," I stepped close and began to attempt managing his hair. "American magic doesn't use wands, it uses focus crystals." I touched the brooch clasped at the base of my throat. "I'll tell you more about it later."

I backed away, giving his appearance a once over before changing his black bow tie into the red and gold necktie of other Gryffindor's.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Why the full dress robes, anyways?" And he was back to stuttering out incomplete and incoherent sentences, as he led me to the table were Ron and Hermione already sat.

As soon as the four headmasters and 2 ministry officials were seated dinner carried out in much the same fashion as the previous night. I was engaged in conversation multiple times by so many of Harry's fellow Gryffindor friends, that I found it impossible to keep track of names. During a lull in conversation I surveyed the crowded hall. Apparently the student body was eager for the feast to end, and for the rest of the night's activities to head underway, if the craning necks and impatient expressions were any indication. I noticed too, that very few of the exchange students were mingling. The majority of C.A.M.A sat huddle together. Only four, including myself, were actually participating in this "Cultural Exchange". Beauxbaton – while approached by many – sat huddled together as well. By my count, not one had dared to converse with another student.

All of Durmstrang sat mixed throughout the Slytherin table however. It was while I was taking note of this that the eyes of one Durmstrang student bore into my own. He was thin – but in a way that screamed of athleticism. Thick black eyebrows and a hooked nose gave him an intimidating, but intriguingly regal appearance.

I sat entranced and stared into those dark eyes until he did something even more unexpected. He gave me a few more moments of his intense gaze, and then he winked. That one action convinced me he was teasing me and I turned away, just as Dumbledore rose.

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision, I estimate it requires one more minute. Now, when a champions name is called, I would ask them to come up to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through to the next chamber," he indicated a door behind the staff. "where they will receive their first instructions."

With a great wave of his wand, any free-standing candle was extinguished. The only light now came from the Jack-o-lanterns decorating the room, and from the goblet itself, casting looming shadows from its flickering blue flames.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red, and from a shower of sparks and a jet of flame, a charred piece of parchment fluttered through the air. The Hogwarts' headmaster snatched the parchment, read it quickly, and then spoke.

"The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."

A grand applause swept through the hall – even Ron could be heard voicing his approval. And the boy who had winked rose and walked heavily towards the front. Once Viktor had gone into the next chamber, and Karkaroff had finished booming his own praises for his champion, the hall once again focused on Dumbledore. Again red, a second piece of parchment burst from the flaming goblet.

"For Beauxbaton, Fleur Delacour!" Again cheers dominated – a majority of them male by the look of things, but as before attention swiveled to Dumbledore as the heavy door in front shut behind Fleur.

From the third tongue of flame the headmaster read, "The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!" The thunder of applause was unlike any thus far. The floor shook, and the students voiced praises long after the Hogwarts' champion had left the room. When the hall finally quieted, the aged wizard read from a paper already in his hand. The goblet had chosen while we students had been lost in applause.

"From Colorado Academy of the Magical Arts – Greyson Isolde." There was no cheering – and if it wasn't for the polite applause of recognition the hall would've been silent. I walked swiftly from my seat to the door once I remembered how legs worked. However, not even half way down the hall, the goblet glowed red, sparked, and with a tongue of flame a fifth piece of parchment fluttered into Dumbledore's hand. There was a long pause, but finally Dumbledore cleared his throat and read.

"Harry Potter."


End file.
